Knowledge
by rasberry banana
Summary: Spock Prime contemplates knowledge and the various burdens he bears due to what he knows of both universes and what he has come to realize, 'the good die young.' If you read the posting on the other site, this one is slightly different!


Disclaimer: Don't own. Inspired by a prompt from st_xi_kink. I changed it from the posting on the other site if you read that one, this one is slightly different.

It was ironic, Spock thought. Here he was in another universe, with another James T. Kirk, who was both like and unlike his counter part. In many respects he was better, his life had been harder, much grittier, and from that he had become a better person, better than his alternate self. He had more capacity for kindness, having endured so much cruelness in his life he went out of his way to make people feel wanted and tried to block the unpleasantness for them, taking on the hardest jobs, both mentally and physically, and he never said anything about what it cost him in body and mind. Just smiled and laughed, always projecting that perfect image of cocky self-assurance that so many had come to expect of him.

Spock felt old, deep, deep in his bones, in a way that he hadn't felt in the other universe when various friends and acquaintances passed. It wasn't because he now saw all these friends and acquaintances faces young that brought this feeling out. No, it was the universe that was at fault. Being un-Vulcan like for a moment, giving in to his human need, he sighed and wished that he had never came here, never went through that black hole or volunteered to help Romulus. This was, in many ways, worse than watching his home planet being destroyed. He had never felt so frayed around the edges and he knew that no amount of meditation would lessen it.

Setting up Jim and Spock, pushing them down the path that Nero had changed had been right, he knew that. Yet he wondered if his changing things had caused this turn of events. 'What ifs,' Vulcans do not indulge in such speculation, it is illogical to do so, but he couldn't help but indulge. He really was masochistic.

Jim was dead. No where near thirty years old and dead. Though this Jim was not his T'hy'la, though he had not known him for years, he could not stop the anguish that flowed through him like he had known him. In a way he did, had been in Jim's mind and saw the potential, knew that though this Jim was different that he could still be a match for this Spock, still complete him. So much now lost and this Spock, his younger counterpart, not even mourning. Part of him wanted to show him, show him what he had saw and felt in this Jim's mind, infect him with the knowledge of all that he could have had and now missed, but part of him doubted he could be that deliberately cruel. He wanted to be though, wanted to inflict the same anguish on his young self because he should have protected Jim, as he had always done for his own Jim. He should have stood with him, lending him strength and pulling him back when he gave too much. Jim never had any self-preservation instincts, this Jim even less so. He had given too much, died fighting and protecting and just too young.

The sorrow was choking. He did not know how he would continue on, to carry this heavy grief within him. He wondered how McCoy was dealing with the loss. He had known this Jim, had been best friends with him and therefore aware of what a good person he was. How hard it must be for him. He at least had memories of another life where Jim lived to be an old man who accomplished great things. Yet this Jim's death was infinitely harder. This Jim had precious little in happy memories within him, so little good in his life and yet he had been so good. Spock had wanted more happiness for him, had pushed him towards his young counterpart in hopes of achieving that for his friend. The universe had deprived them of time though and the friendship he had wanted for them would never come to be now.

This universe was so much harder to bear. He had expected to see them all age to a certain extent, but he had also expected to die before them all this time. He might though, die that is, the others may still outlive him, yet it wasn't enough, wasn't the same, which was ridiculous because this wasn't the same world. He could not help those wants and resented how skewed everything in this time is. Knowledge is a burden and the knowledge of what may have been, of what should have been, is even worse. This Jim was dead. He had followed his father's footsteps. Both gone so much sooner than their counterparts, burning quicker and brighter. They were even more legendary now in many regards; than they would have been had they lived; immortalized forever, beautiful and young, dieing heroically in battle to save the lives of many. Old age and infirmary did not claim them. His Jim, (and he did not think he would ever quit picking at this particular point), had been old and had done many good things in his life. His life had been full and so joyful. Spock's heart did not cry, did not think that he had 'missed out' the way it did when he thought of this Jim. He was fraying around the edges because though there was beauty in youth and Jim's memory would live in that, Spock would rather have seen him fade, perhaps that was selfish though, this Jim had contained more fight in him, fading wouldn't have suited. Still, Spock could not help but long for him to have lived just a bit longer. Facts could not be changed and he hated this universes facts.

This Jim was dead and he was tired and he now knew the good die young. He wished he could unlearn that knowledge.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Reviews make me happy, I like to know what people thought and it lets me know if I am doing it right or if I need to work on something. Take care and Toodles :)


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